LETTERS
OF PRAISE FOR SUPERIOR CUSTOMER SERVICE AT DAIRY
QUEEN!A Message From The
CEO

Dear
colleagues,

As team members, we’re all aware of the importance of superior
customer service.It’s not only
an integral part of our business, but also a genuine Dairy Queen
tradition.

This company was founded, and it has thrived, because of a total
commitment to putting our customers first.
As the many unsolicited letters pour in, praising our customer
care, I swell with pride and know that we remain on the true path set
forth by our founders.

Today I want to share a few of the notes recently received, introduce
you to this brand new DQ intranet page, and say
thank you for a job well done.

So, thank you! It’s never been a more exciting time to work at Dairy
Queen, and that's because of each and every one of you!

Sincerely,

Roger Shakeshaft, President and CEO

Kindness and Caring Make DQ Tops!

Dear Dairy Queen,

Because of a severe glandular condition, my wife suffers from
post-morbid obesity.For the past
couple of years she’s been all but bedridden, as her weight rocketed
beyond 600 pounds.Doctors have
tried a variety of treatments and drugs, in an attempt to tame her
runaway gland, but so far nothing has worked.

Dairy Queen, it breaks my heart to see my beautiful Shirley
incapacitated and unable to participate in family activities, just a
'round-the-clock prisoner of our mattress and the salty offerings of the
Frito-Lay Corporation.

During a recent snowstorm we were trapped inside our house for several
days.The panel truck I use to
haul Shirley back and forth to the beauty shop was buried past the
axles, and it wasn’t going anywhere.Our
son’s 1989 Plymouth Sundance often doesn’t start in the best of
weather.

We were stranded.

Predictably, the food didn’t last.We’d begun with a full cupboard, but the stress of our
situation apparently acted as a “gland accelerator” and my wife
ripped through our stockpile in short order.Including a large box of Clabber Girl baking powder, which
Shirley ate dry with a spoon.

We’d found ourselves in a similar situation during the big Tayback
blizzard of ’04, but during that earlier storm we’d been able to
keep Shirley fed with the scraps of food we found hidden in her folds.

Her neck fat alone had yielded almost an entire package of Nabisco
cheese crackers.But this time
around she was one step ahead of us, and had already scavenged her
riffles by the time we got there.

I thought about our son’s teeth, he’s not the most hygienic person
you’ll ever meet, but there wasn’t as much food stuck to them as
I’d guessed.Shirley finished
that off with a single flick of her great tongue, and it did little to
appease her rampaging gland.

By the end of day two we were completely out of food, and my wife’s
blood sugar was plummeting.It
was a real emergency!

I tried to free the truck, but it wasn’t budging. The Sundance caught
fire when I started the engine, and I began to panic.What could we do?!Shirley,
by this time, was in a bad way, thrashing around in her bedclothes and
screaming obscenities.

Then I thought of Dairy Queen!The
employees there had always been so friendly and kind, and I was sure
they’d come through for us if I explained our predicament.

And did they ever!Jerry Hill,
the assistant manager of store #473, answered on the second ring, and
his genuine warm-heartedness worked its way through the phone lines.He told me not to worry, and assured me that help was on the way.

I’m not ashamed to admit I wept.

And true to his word, a 4-wheel drive vehicle came cutting through the
all-but-impassable snow 45 minutes later.I was still wiping away the tears of relief when Mr. Hill and one
of his cheerful employees emerged from the SUV, each carrying a large
box in his arms.

Not only did they bring an amazing array of products, including a dozen
Dilly bars - Shirley’s favorite - but they personally administered the
treatment, expertly and with much human kindness.

My elderly father loves your Peanut Buster Parfait, but can no longer
tolerate the skin of a peanut.If
he ingests even the tiniest amount of the substance, his bowels are
instantly thrown into a painful and prolonged state of hyper-flexation,
and frightening sounds begin issuing forth from his trouser region.

He's been forced to forego his
beloved dessert for many years now, and that just breaks my heart.My daddy worked hard his whole life, and if he wants a parfait
then, by golly, he should have a parfait!

When his 85th birthday rolled around I decided to finally do something
about it.I was sure that if
I called our local Dairy Queen and explained the situation, they'd help
me make my father's special day even more special.And I was right!

I spoke with a young man named Dana Lanham, at store #367, and told him
of our skin-intolerance problem and how much my daddy always loved Dairy
Queen's wonderful frozen treats.Right
away I could tell Mr. Lanham was a kind soul, and that I had an ally in
my quest.

I asked if it would be possible to make a special "birthday
parfait" for my father, using peanuts with the skins carefully
removed.To my amazement, he
agreed without hesitation.He
kept saying, "Well of course I'll stand back there and take the
time to remove the skin from each individual peanut – because you're
more important than everybody else."

Oh, how relieved I was to hear those words!Such a refreshing attitude, and so rare in today's world.I thanked Mr. Lanham, and told him the date and time we'd be
there for my father's big surprise. As I hung up the phone, tears of joy
were streaming down my face.

On the big day I took my daddy to Dairy Queen #367, and met Dana Lanham
for the first time.He seemed to
be as happy to see me as I was him; he kept smiling and giggling the
whole time.He was getting a kick
out of it too!

The parfait had been made before we arrived, and was being kept frosty
cold in a stand-up freezer.Just
to be sure, I asked Dana if the skins had been removed and he assured me
they had.

"I even put a little something
extra in there for you," he said, barely able to contain his
excitement.

Through a fog of tears I asked if he was talking about love.He thought about it for a second and answered, "Yeah, I
guess I am."Then he and
another worker were overcome by emotion, and disappeared into the
backroom, laughing and patting each other on the back.

To make a long story a little less long, my father had one of the best
birthdays of his entire life this year.He
ate that parfait with great gusto, and spent the afternoon reminiscing
about his old army buddy, Frank.

I don't know what triggered that particular memory; he usually doesn't
like to talk about Frank or his days stationed in the Philippines, for some reason.But it was a
wonderful bonding experience for the two of us.

And I owe it all to Dairy Queen,
and its warm, caring employees like Dana Lanham.

God bless you all!

Theresa

DQ Better Than A Sister!

Dear Dairy Queen,

Four years ago I was involved in a terrifying automobile accident in
front of Dairy Queen #117. We were passing through the intersection of
Osterberg and James, without a care in the world, when a bus carrying
folks bound for the outlet mall ran the red light and t-boned my late
model Cutlass Supreme.

My sister, strapped into the passenger seat beside me, was killed
instantly. In fact, her body was cut in half upon impact, and before
blacking out I saw her legs go sailing across the cinderblock wall in
front of Sleepy's Mattress Center.

The next few minutes were chaotic to say the least. I'm not even certain
if some of the things I believe I witnessed, actually happened.

For instance, I'm almost sure I saw a man on fire, even though there was
no explosion. I also recall a woman screaming hysterically, running
through the streets with a full dashboard rammed through her torso. Is
that even possible? And for many months I would become extremely
agitated if someone dared dispute my claim that Bill Cosby was there, on
horseback.

Now I'm not so sure…

One thing I'm absolutely sure about, though, is the kindness of the
persons working at Dairy Queen #117. They were on the scene at once,
administering CPR, tying off stumps, and passing out coupons good for
one free regular sized cone.

Even though most of us didn't know each other before the accident, and
were quite literally thrown together by circumstance, the survivors of
that day became a battle-hardened band of brothers, the Dairy Queen our
rec hall.

I don't remember whose idea it was, but almost immediately we began
conducting monthly reunions. Some had no interest in participating, I
guess it was too difficult, but most of us met at store #117 on the day
of the crash each month.

There were no formal agendas to these meetings, we'd just get together
to see how the others were doing, and offer support if we could. Over
time we became close friends.

The manager of #117, Bill Mangus, has been an absolute sweetheart, as
well. He treats us all
like VIPs and tends to our every need.Sometimes he even wedges a complimentary Buster Bar into Danny's
hand during his hourly seizures, so he has a nice surprise when he comes
to. Dairy Queen's role in our emotional
healing and recovery can not be overstated.

And the laughter! Oh, it feels so good to laugh after such an ordeal. At
a recent meeting, for instance,
Roy
got a Mister Misty cup jammed in the drive train of his electric
wheelchair, and there was a whole room full of cripples jerking and
twitching and trying to wave the smoke away.

I didn't think I'd ever stop laughing!

Dairy Queen, I have some trouble admitting this, but I'm much happier
today than at any point before the tragedy. I've never been very good at
meeting people, and sincerely treasure the warm and loving relationships
I've fostered as a result of the crash.

Of course I wish my sister were still with us, but if I were forced to
choose… I honestly don't know which way I'd go.Truth be told, she wasn't a very nice person. I feel guilty
remembering things as they were, instead of some revised post-death
version, but my sister was, in fact, a snooty little bitch.
So, thank you Dairy Queen for the wonderful hospitality; you've helped
us put a happy face on unthinkable tragedy.If my sister had to be cut clean in half, her legs flying through
the air and casting a shadow as they passed in front of the sun, it
couldn't have happened in a better place!

Jennifer

DQ is the cream of the crop!

Dear Dairy Queen,

I was in one of your stores last weekend, when I witnessed your
management staff being put to a most difficult test.And I'm writing today to tell you how marvelously they performed!

I was there with my husband, and the place was extremely crowded.It was a hot weekend, and apparently we weren't the only folks in
town who thought it would be a good idea to enjoy some delicious Dairy
Queen frozen treats!And
who could blame them?

There was a very long line, snaking through the store and almost
reaching the entrance.The
air conditioning didn't seem to be working correctly, and we both
remarked about how uncomfortably warm it was inside.We'd been waiting for about ten minutes, when my husband suddenly
vomited on a child.

My Jim has been a high-functioning alcoholic for decades, Dairy Queen,
and his eruption-without-warning that day looked like finely chopped
ravioli, Italian dressing, and wet paper towels.But it smelled like Jim Beam straight out of the jug.

Unfortunately, the bulk of the flow
was interrupted by the head of a nine year old boy, waiting with his
mother to purchase Oreo Blizzards.The power of the torrent caused the young man's face to snap
forward, and Jim's second blast went right down the boy's collar.

And the way that kid's mother acted… you would've thought my husband
got sick in her son's hair and down his back on purpose!Doesn't anyone know the meaning of the words dignity and decorum
anymore?!

But just as the situation was about to turn even uglier, the manager of
the store was on the scene, fully in charge.I later learned his name was Jimmy Moss, and he controlled the
atmosphere, defused the hostility, and began passing out coupons good
for one free regular sized cone.

Oh, he was a master!By
the time it was over, we were all laughing and patting each other on the
shoulders and having ourselves a great time.Yes, including the boy and his mother.

Only moments before, we were on the
verge of a riot scene.Now
the young man was marching around the store with his arms upraised,
growling, "You better watch out. The drunk vomit monster is going to get you…"And we all laughed and laughed, and enjoyed frozen treats
together.

I'm always amazed at the quality of the personnel working at Dairy
Queen, but Jimmy Moss at store #562 is the cream of the crop!Even when there was a second incident a half hour later, and my
husband vomited into a decorative planter, shit his pants and fell down
the front steps, it felt like we were amongst friends.

Take it from me, Dairy Queen, if we'd been at any number of other
businesses (like, oh I don't know… Bed, Bath, and Beyond?), there would've been a completely different outcome.How do I know?Well,
I just know.

I salute your fine establishment!

Pauline

Please
check this space often for additional letters of praise from satisfied
Dairy Queen guests! We will be updating it frequently, as a way of
providing personal recognition to the employees mentioned, and as a
means of offering all of us regular and inspirational accounts of
customer care done the DQ way! -
RAS

Disclaimers for Dumbasses: None of this is real. It is a parody
by Jeff Kay, on behalf of The West Virginia Surf Report!